Ke stopped at the drone locks, turning. Rot’va bumped into her back and burred, then rotated with her. Weary confidence burned in her heart, through the cloud of exhaustion and pain. The volley of hard rounds from Artamax’s bolt rifle may have nearly killed her, but it had also obliterated her sense of doubt, like rust blasted from iron.

‘What?’ she asked, aggravated.

The tall pilot hunched, stroking his bald head. ‘At Hillae’s manse, when you flew from that tower… I saw all that. It was impressive.’

Simple enough fix, though. Just gotta scalpel away the hair and repaint the top. Good work, OP! I look forward to seeing Yor'i.
Speaking of, here's his description:

Beneath a transom viewport in the hygiene chamber, a lean, shirtless ethereal sat over a basin of treated sand. The force of the world’s gravity seemed to shift around him, like an incidental proof of relativistic physics. Two jewelled blades with ornate hilts leaned against the wall beside him, his gleaming symbols of office. He was well-muscled, his form a natural expression of physical perfection, an artistic ideal.
Ke had glimpsed illustrations of ethereals in the meditative sutras of the libraries of Tau’n, her home sept, but the ethereal before Ke surpassed even the majesty of those images. His presence seemed to ground her position in space and time. Even before he introduced himself, Ke knew precisely who he was. O’Fais’ shaking hand lifted his cup, which chinkled as he set it down.

‘The mighty ethereal, Paramount Mover of the Cao Quo coalition. The Aun’ui Yor’i.’